Creepypasta (Creepypasta Saga, 1)
by Adrian Johnson
Summary: In a small town of Tuscaloosa, Alabama called Marble Hornets, Rick teams up with the creator of Creepypasta, Eric Knudsen, to defeat all of the Creepypasta characters Rick accidentally unleashes. "I am honored to be a part of a loyal fan's story, enjoy the read!" - Creepypasta, /checkunderyourbed


**PART ONE: GETTING AN UNEXPECTED PACKAGE**

It was an autumn afternoon, in a cold breeze, blowing dead leaves into the distance. Little boys and girls were playing in piles of them, throwing them up in the air. Some people weren't interested in going out in the cold. Most teenagers were at school, getting ready to leave, to go home to do whatever they need to do. The others, adults, went on shopping or going to work at their jobs.

And I'm at school, just like I explained about teens being at school. I'm currently at my locker right now, loading my backpack with whatever I needed, especially my textbooks. I don't really like school much, but hey, I'm just trying to get a good career in college.

As I slammed my locker closed, carrying my backpack over my right shoulder, I heard booming footsteps come near me. I turn my head around, and tried to run. I didn't look back, but I know who it was. Jack Nielson, or what people call him, Big Jack. He's the toughest and meanest kid at school. He's twice the size of about 75% of the kids at school. Nobody would dare go near him, or talk rumors about him. One time, a friend of mine, Ryan King got his ankles broken for calling Big Jack "a fat good-for-nothing loser". So tragic, but that's not the point I'm getting to. I was being chased by him. I decided to look back while running, seeing nobody but a few kids, staring at me, in horror.

"What?" I said, but the kids just ran away with their stuff. I realized they weren't staring at me. They were staring at something behind me. That made me too afraid to turn around, but I needed to know if he was. I turned my head a little, but a big, beefy hand grabbed my shoulder. I turned my head back, looking at his big, beefy face and his dandelion yellow eyes, peering into the back of my skull. Then, Big Jack shoved me to a locker, my back starting to ache from the backstabbing pain that shot throughout my body. "Listen here, Rick. Remember my rules, if you look at me, or even tell on me, I will come to your way with a little pocket knife and lemon juice going into your scars and bruises. You understand me, Little Ricky?" He told me, holding his left forearm on my chest to hold me still. "Little Ricky" was a nickname he had given me when he first bullied me at school. "Yes yes yes!" I started to squeal, because his arm randomly moved up to my neck, choking me. He removed his big arm off my neck, but before he was about to walk off, he shoved me to the locker again. The pain was back again. It might not be that painful, but to me, it was unbearable, hitting the locker handle on my back.

I missed my bus, so that meant I had to walk home, which didn't really seem far. While I walked home, I noticed how dark and cold it has gotten. It used to be a bright blue sky out. And a hot and cold mix, not like warm temperature though, but a little warm and mostly cold. But now, it's more of nothing but cold temperature now and the sky is pale gray, like pale skin color. The tree leaf colors used to be spring green, but now they changed to red, yellow, and brown. This is why I sometimes hate autumn. There's no hot temperature, where you get to go out, swim, get active, and even hang out with your friends more often.

I made it to my house finally. It just seems a little gloomy under the miserable shades of gray blankets covering over us. The house is a normal three-story house, with red bricks and white pillars holding the roof and porch together. There, on the porch, was a swing to relax on. I went up the stone steps, opening the glass door and stepped inside. As I laid my stuff down on the couch, I heard a clink come from the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen, thinking someone was in the house.

I stepped afoot on the linoleum floor, watching as Keith was digging through the cookie jar. "Keith! What are you doing here?" I asked my friend, Keith. He turned his head to me, then smiled, as if he was expecting to see me.

"Yo, Big Ricky, just here to watch over your house, because your mother and father told me to while they're gone," he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Yes, he also gives me a nickname too. Keith is a little older than me, although he's in college. I'm only sixteen years old, and I'm about to graduate soon, maybe. Keith can be a big friend and all, but sometimes, he can be a little derpy to be an intelligent college student. He's actually our neighbor's son, the Farmers family. He has long, blond hair that hangs low on the back of his head, that would stay untidy. He's always wearing his college leather jacket and ripped jeans. Literally, he never would take it off, which is why he smells like old cigarettes and Axe body spray.

"They left? To where?" I asked as I took his arm off my shoulders. Keith went to the kitchen counter, and grabbed a written piece of lined paper, with a message written on it. "They left to go off to a fancy dinner," said Keith, his mouth full of Oreo cookies.

I start reading the note, it reads: "Keith, I want you to look over our house, in case if anything bad happens. If Rick comes home, make sure to keep an eye on him. He sometimes loves to wonder off to hang out at video stores on his own. Please and thank you. From, Mr. and Mrs. Watson."

I groaned, going into the living room. I pick up my backpack, and go upstairs to my bedroom. I heard his voice from downstairs as he called me. "Remember, don't go to the video store on your own," he said, sipping a small glass of milk.

I laid down on my bed, feeling more relaxed and calm. I felt like forgetting my worries about things and just let it be. I got up, getting my laptop from the end of my bed. I check the battery, it was full. That would mean that I had free time, since today is Friday, the thirteenth of November. I typed in my computer password, and clicked on the Internet Explorer icon. The internet popped up, sending me to the Google website. Then as I went to look for something when typing in the search bar, I looked at the top right corner. It said I have an email from someone. Who would send me an email? I thought. My friends at school don't really have a Google account, but I do. I clicked on the message inbox.

The message had a disturbing subject title: HELP ME! However, the message subject line really sent a chill down my spine, just imagining those words being said out loud. I clicked on the email, reading the message, which was said was sent about seventeen minutes ago. I read the message: "Rick, this CD, it's too powerful. It's after me. I need you to destroy it, or get rid of it. I sent you the disc in a package outside your door. If you play it, it'll kill you too. Please, get rid of this at once! Now!" I checked the email, saying it came from a guy named Kyle. That's odd, I thought, because I don't know a guy named Kyle, and I don't know any CD he sent me. I slammed my laptop shut and climbed down the stairs. I ran to the door, which caught Keith's attention from watching some MTV. I looked down, through the glass door.

My eyes widened as I saw the cardboard package, with a white post-it-note on the package. I opened the door, picking up the package, reading the label information. It said the box was to be sent at my address, with my name written in black marker on the box. I went to the kitchen, followed by Keith. "What's that?" he asked me as I got out a small kitchen knife and cut the tape that sealed the box closed. I lifted open the flaps, seeing nothing but packaging peanuts. I digged into the box, finding a case, with a disc in it. The disc seemed to be a burnt copy or something, because a title was written in Sharpie on the disc, reading .

Keith, behind me, gasped in shock, gleaming at the disc. He ran into the living room, screaming like terror had just invaded. Does Keith know about this disc? I thought. My mind was racing like a race track being used. I walked into the living room with the disc. I looked around until I saw Keith, huddled in the corner. "Keith, do you know this disc?" I asked him, holding out the disc in front of him. He didn't answer, he just murmured something under his breath. I went closer, and I could hear it finally. "It's real. He's real. It's real. He's real." This just started to tick me off. "Keith, what do you know about this?" I asked him again. Keith got up from the corner, recovered calmly.

"That disc, is . It's a hacked version of the original Sonic The Hedgehog, well, it seemed hacked," Keith told me, taking the disc from my hands. "This game is haunted. If you play this game, Sonic will kill you." I thought about the email message I received from that guy named Kyle.

"Really? I'm going to put it in, and play the stupid game," I said, grabbing back the disc, going to our family's laptop. Yes, our family has a laptop, and I have my own. I sat down, clicking on the eject button on the side of the laptop. Before I could put the disc in, Keith grabbed the disc from me.

"Hey! Give it back! I just want proof!" I shouted at him as I lunged at Keith, fighting over the disc. I tried grabbing the disc, but he flipped me over, with him on the top. He held my arms down, pinned to the floor. Keith lays his knee on my forearm, which pretty much hurts, bring back the pain I had at school from Big Jack. He takes the disc, and throws it away from me, into the dining room, under the dinner table.

"No way dude, that game is evil. And sorry for doing this tho-" he was about to say when we heard a little beep. The beep sounded a little like an email notification. You know that beep that it makes when you receive a little notification? That's what it sounds like.

"Get off of me Keith!" I shoved Keith off of me, and went to the laptop. The Internet Explorer opened up to . That's weird, I thought. I never opened up Google when I went on the laptop. I clicked on the notification icon, and it sends me to another message that I received. Under the message from the Kyle guy, above it was a new message, said that it was sent to me just now. The subject title said DON'T PLAY THE GAME. I clicked on the message, that's when Keith came up behind me, looking at the laptop screen. The email message says: "Rick, I know what you got in that package. If you had opened it, don't play the game. If you didn't open the package or didn't get it yet, make sure that it never exists. Get rid of the game now! Whatever you do, don't play . DON'T PLAY THE GAME RICK WATSON!" I checked the user who sent me the message, and it said the user was MrCreepypasta666 .

"Mr. Creepypasta?" I asked in confusion. I looked behind me, and Keith has his mouth hung open in shock. "It's him, it's really him!" Keith said in surprise. I looked at him in more confusion. "Um, Keith, you know this guy?" I asked him, pointing to the user's profile picture, which seems to be a yellow skull, with long Pikachu-like ears poking out from the front of the skull. Keith nodded. I never seen him in such surprise and joy ever in my life.

"It's Mr. Creepypasta. He created the internet sensation of horror story collections, called Creepypastas. That disc, , is a Creepypasta. But does this mean that those Creepypastas are actually real?!" Keith told me, with big breaths in between words, as if he was running out of breath. I looked at Keith, with even more confusion. "I never heard of Creepypastas," I told him, as I went to the search bar, typing CREEPYPASTA. As the link loaded, it took me to a bunch of links that talked about Creepypasta. I clicked on the Creepypasta Wikipedia page, which sounded more useful to look up about. As I got to the website, wiki/Creepypasta. It says here: "Creepypastas are horror-related legends or images that have been copy-and-pasted around the Internet. These Internet entries are often brief, user generated ghost or alien stories intended to scare readers. They include gruesome tales of murder, suicide, and otherworldly occurrences. According to TIME magazine, the genre had its peak audience in 2010 when it was covered by The New York Times."

I looked at the email message, which was still popped out on our screen, and then at the Wikipedia page. I need to know who this guy is, I thought. Is he really real? And what was his purpose for those Creepypastas? Those questions still frighten me at this minute. I exited out of Internet Explorer and turned off the laptop. I went to the dining room, under the dinner table, picking up the game disc. I handed it to Keith.

"What do you want me to do with this?" Keith asked me, putting the disc on the table where the laptop is. "I want you to watch the disc, if anything happens. And whatever you do, don't play the game yet," I told him, as I grabbed my jacket. "Where are you going though?" Keith asked me again. I turned around at him, glaring through those eyes. They were widened with fear and trumatism. "I'm going to ride my bike, because it makes me think more," I said, before I headed out the back door. I grabbed my bike, and opened the garage door. As I got out of the garage, I rode my bike out, into this cold, autumn air.

 **PART TWO: MEETING MR. CREEPYPASTA**

I ride my bike out, into the cold afternoon. It was almost evening, as if it was before dinnertime. I had to think, riding my bike makes me think.

I saw kids, playing out in piles of leaves, as usual. I'm not that kind of guy, although I'm sixteen. I need to know who this guy is, so I can know about the big deal of the disc. I mean, how would he know that I got the game in a package? Does he live near here in Alabama? My mind was racing, which gave me a brain cramp.

I had to stop thinking. I needed to focus more on riding my bike. As I rode past the park, dark and cold to live or play there, right? Probably that kid in the black jacket and sunglasses enjoyed being there. I stopped my bike, staring at the kid. I can barely see his face, his eyes covered by the black sunglasses, making his skin seem pale. He seemed to be writing in some sort of journal, or diary, because the book he's writing in looked like a leather bound manuscript or an old book from the seventeenth century.

The kid looked about my age, but I'm not sure about that. I can tell he's drawing, because he seemed to be scribbling and drawing in random spots of the page. He sat on a bench by the swings, which I once swung on when I was little.

One thing I wanted to know, who is that kid? I thought. Did he move from somewhere or what? I was about to ride my bike more, but the kid shut his sketch book closed and walked away, in the opposite direction I was going.

I tried to get his attention. "Hey, kid! Do you know Creepypasta?" I asked him, which he finally faced me. He stared at me, with a cold expression under those dark sunglasses. Then he started to run. I stared at him, and turned around to make sure nothing was behind me. Yup, he was scared of me. I only wanted to ask him a simple question, since I don't know him in town.

I followed him, riding my bike after him. I know, I may have bad manners, but I just don't feel like acting like a good little girl right now. I caught up to him, which he wasn't that fast. He turned his head at me, sweating with fear, as if he thought I was stalking him. He still had the sketch journal, held in both of his hands.

He turned away to see what's coming forward him, which he was about to trip on a fire hydrant. I tried to stop him, but it was no use. I lost control of the bike handles, and he lost control of where he was going, because we both fell. I landed on the pavement hard, scraping my knee. I turned my head to the kid, his journal flew up in the air, landing between us in our landed spots. He landed on grass, which won't hurt much, but the bike crash would've hurt more.

We both stared at the journal, then started crawling to get the journal. I got up and walked to it, because I had my hand on my wound, which was bleeding badly. God, the pain. I thought. As I walked up to the journal, the kid looked up at me, reaching his hand at the journal, which was a yard away from him.

Before I was about to pick up the journal, the book started jerking and shaking violently, as if it was left out on an earthquake. I stared, in horror, as the book flipped over on the back, front, and spine. Then in a few seconds, it stopped shaking. The book flipped open, revealing pages inside, which were full of sketches of weird, creepy characters of some sort. One flipped to a dog, who had a large smile, revealing a row of sharp fangs, saying these words above him: SPREAD THE WORD. Another page flipped to a teenager, about my age, with pale skin, bloody clothes, wide eyes, and a big smile across his face. It was if he carved it into his cheeks, because the smile looked a little bloody. The character held a bloody knife, written above: GO TO SLEEP.

The kid immediately got up and ran to the journal, squeezing it shut, as if something was trying to escape. I just stared at him, wrestling the book, but he was stronger, enough to make it stop.

"Good day Rick Watson, and also, don't mess with anybody's stuff that don't belong to you," the kid told me, walking away as if anything haven't happened. I stood speechless. How did he know my name? I thought. And what were those sketches about? Was that what Creepypasta really is? Is that kid the creator of Creepypasta?

"No, that can't be," I told myself as I walked up to him. "Sorry about back there, I just need help."

He finally turned to face me, and seemed to listen. "I moved here a week ago from Connecticut. I knew your name, because I heard about you at school, Hillcrest High. And yes, I know Creepypasta," the kid explained. He finally got to tell me some things though.

The new kid? I thought. The one that moved into the creepy house on my street, 1408 Skylord Avenue?

I decided to change the subject. "This disc you texted me about, , is starting to scare me. I didn't play it though. But the letter, it came from someone I don't know. What is this all about? What is ?"

"Think, did the letter say the game is dangerous, and that you need to get rid of it?"

"Yeah?"

"Then get rid of it. The Creepypasta says so. Destroy it, or it will kill you. Good day Rick."

Then he just walks off, randomly ending the conversation. Rude, I thought. As he went to turn down to the next left, my street, which isn't far from the park, I saw something fall out of his jacket pocket. It was his sketch journal.

I went to pick it up, making sure nothing happens like that one moment ago. You saw it, right? "Hey kid! You dropped your-" I could say before the kid just vanishes. He left, not noticing his journal fell out. Then randomly, something came over me. I thought about keeping the journal, admiring the leather bound cover, just like an old book from the seventeenth century.

"I wonder what other kinds of Creepypastas I can know and make up..."

Then I took the journal with me, and went up to my bike, and rode to my house.

 **PART THREE: UNLEASHED CHAOS INTO MARBLE HORNETS**

I stepped inside my house, leaving my bike into the garage. I took the sketch journal inside. I looked around for Keith, if he's anywhere. As I stepped into the living room, I heard a blood-curdling scream.

It was as if it was from a woman. but I wasn't really sure. I looked around, until looking to the left, I saw Keith, on the family laptop. He stared at the screen, with eyes wide open, as if he was surprised by something he saw.

I turned to look at the screen, and saw an 16-bit game being played. Keith seemed to be choosing a character, although there was only three. They were in slots, but two of them were unusable. The one in the middle was useable. The playable characters were familiar. I looked at the first slot, which was a dark character, as if a silhouette with fur, and with bleeding eyes. The character, however, didn't look right. The useable character Keith was about to use was a red echidna character. It took me a few moments to realize the game he was playing when a weird, but terrifying video game laugh came on.

"Keith! Why are you playing that?" I asked him, pulling him away from the laptop, but he was too heavy. He started moving his character, which I found out was Knuckles. The fox character in the character selection was Tails. The other one that wasn't used yet was Doctor Eggman.

Then, on the screen, it started to change. At first, when Knuckles was running on the game platform, the platform became bloody. I know it's a game, but an old game shouldn't behave that way.

I went to the side of the laptop, putting the sketch journal on the laptop desk, and ejected the disc out of the laptop. Keith just stared at the laptop screen, although it's only showing the wallpaper of the laptop.

"Um, Keith. You alright?" I asked as I waved my hand in front of his face, which got his attention at last. "What? Oh, yeah. Just playing the game. Seems rather funny than odd," Keith told me, sounding more surprised about game, as if having a big interest in it.

"You know that game might kill you. Probably us! I just found out," I said, running to upstairs to check out the journal. As I got to my bedroom, I heard Keith's voice downstairs.

"What's that book thing you have there with you? And also, did you find any information about ?" He asked me. I walked out of my room, going to the end of the hallway and seeing Keith down the stairs.

"It's just a gift from a friend at school," I lied. "And also, that game will kill you if played."

I heard him walking into the living room, turning on the television. I walked to my room, setting the journal down on my desk. I sat down as well, opening the journal. I turned to the first page, which has the words written in black ball-point pen: SKETCH JOURNAL BY MR. CREEPYPASTA.

This kid's the creator of Creepypasta? I thought, turning the next page. It was a sketch of a tall figure. The figure had a dark suit and tie, blank face, and long arms sticking out. He had tentacles coming out of his back. Above him, was a word written: SLENDERMAN.

"Slender Man," I muttered myself turning the next page. The page also had a character too. This one was a teenager, probably looks like it, wearing a jacket. He also had orange glasses, and what seemed to be a bandana. He held a bloody ax in each hand. The words above him: TICCI TOBY.

"Ticci Toby." I flipped to other sketches, showing horrifying characters. "Jeff the Killer, Smile Dog, Ben Drowned, Masky, Hoodie, Sally, Suicide Mouse, Squidward's Suicide, Eyeless Jack, Heartful Lou, Laughing Jack..." Each character I saw, examining each one, interested me a lot. Then as I flipped to a bunch of pages, I saw a blank page.

The last one was Zalgo, but the one I got to was blank. I had no idea how long I was looking through this journal for, so I checked outside the window, nighttime. I looked at my alarm clock, which was 9:03 PM.

"Already?" I told myself. "Glad today is a Friday." I sat down on the chair to my desk, grabbing a pencil. I wanted to create a Creepypasta character, then I'll give it back to the kid, I thought. Then he'll know how much I started to love Creepypasta.

I started drawing, but nothing came in mind, so only one Creepypasta character came up in mind. Slender Man, I thought out, then started drawing the head, which was basically easy. Then the suited body. Then the long arms and legs. Then the tentacles coming out of his back. Easy sketch, but then I heard a soft, but loud noise downstairs.

It was a knock on the front door, then I heard Keith open it. "Um, hello, who are you?" I heard Keith say to the person at the door.

"I'm Eric Knudsen, a friend of Rick's. Anyway, I just want to talk to him, then I'll leave."

"Yeah, he's upstairs. I know he isn't asleep, but still. Anyway, won't you come in?"

"Thanks."

Who is Eric Knudsen? I thought. I don't know a kid named Eric Knudsen. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I decided to look normal, and draw in the journal. As the person came into the room, I almost dropped dead.

It was the kid I met at the park, with the journal I stole from him, well, I wouldn't consist it being "stealing". He stared at me, then came up to me.

"Hey Rick, just came here to ask you something. Have you seen my journal? I checked my pocket and noticed it's gone, so I came here to ask-" Was all he could say before he stopped. He turned his head to his journal on my desk. "YOU STOLE MY JOURNAL?" The kid shouted at me, grabbing it off my desk.

"I just borrowed it, to know more about Creepypasta. And to make a Creepypasta character in your journal," I told him, sounding worried. I have no idea what he's going to do to me. Hang me? Give me the Colombian Necktie? Burn me on a cross? Those sound too gruesome for that to happen.

"Draw in it? Rick, did you draw in this?" He asked me, holding up the journal. I nodded, as my only response.

"Rick, what did you draw in this?"

"Just a sketch of Slender Man, but why?"

He gasped in shock, his mouth hanging out open. He backed away, sitting on my bed. The kid had a hand over his heart, shocked and mostly terrified at the same time. "Why would you draw him? Don't you realize that he's the most evil one of all?" He told me, his body shaking.

"It's just a drawing. What's wrong about that?" I asked, before his journal started shaking again, but this time, more violently. We all stood still, looking at the book.

"Is it supposed to do that? Why is it doing that?" I asked, but the book started shaking so bad, it started shaking off the ceiling and walls, like a bouncy dodge ball. It came flying to the window, crashing through. The glass window shattered, the pieces falling to the floor.

The kid and I looked out the window, feeling the cold breeze blowing on our face. The book landed on the roof, almost falling off. It opened up to my drawn sketch of Slender Man, by itself. I only done nothing, just stood still and watched. The pencil ink started bleeding out like blood squeezing out from a deep cut. The ink started to glow. Not like glow in the dark, but like a beam of light.

The glowing ink started to form into something huge. It formed into something terrifying. Us looking at it, we stood in fear, staring into its blank face.

"It's Slender Man!" The kid shouted as Slender Man jumped off the roof, taking the journal. We looked at each other, cowering in fear.

"What have you done Rick? What have you done?"

 **PART FOUR: WHEN THE CHILDREN PLAY**

Him and I ran down the stairs to make sure anything was okay, and sure enough, Keith was looking through the window. I tapped his shoulder, and he turned to face us, with a feared expression on his face.

"Was that Slender Man out there? Are you guys okay?" Keith whispered to us, sounding a lot worried at the same time. The kid nodded. Something tells me that this kid is hiding something, even if his name isn't Eric.

The kid went to open the front door, but then he looked through the keyhole. He gasped in shock again, taking his eye away and putting his dark sunglasses back on.

"What is it?" Keith and I said at the same time, then looked at each other. We looked inside the keyhole, and saw something odd. Behind the big white door, which does show the glass door, but what's shown through is nothing but a deep shade of red.

The outside looked like we're under a red blanket, except the outside was nothing but clear red. "It's the Other Watcher," the kid said. "A woman died in a hotel room once, and if you look through the keyhole in the room, you might see a pale woman inside. And sometimes, you'll see nothing but red."

Keith and I looked at the kid, confused. "Um, how do you know all of this?" Keith asked the kid. The kid only walked up to our family laptop, turned on the Internet Explorer, and searched for Creepypasta. He went to a link, which I haven't heard of before, and pointed to a picture of him, sitting on a laptop, typing something on a blank document.

"This, doesn't prove anything," I told the kid, but he rudely interrupted me.

"I'm the actual, and real Mr. Creepypasta, well, that's my Creepypasta name. My human name is Eric Knudsen. Other wise, how would I know what's going on?" the kid said. Knew it, I thought, at least he was telling the truth about his name. "All of those creepypastas, worked-on creepypastas, and even OC's, are invading the town of Marble Hornets, to kill everyone."

Keith didn't really seemed surprised, but he just nodded in amusement. "Even my OC characters that I posted on your website and Facebook page?" He asked him.

Eric nodded. Keith only jumped in the air, excited about his real-life original creepypasta characters. "That's just awesome! Now people will know me for them..." He only said when we, Eric and I, looked at him.

"There's other ones too you should learn about. I even tried creating some from OC's, but they became evil over me." He typed in the search box "OC Creepypastas" and clicked on Images. Images showed pictures of some illustrated creepypasta characters. Some were drawn using Photoshop and some drawn on paper with ink and paint.

"But why are we talking about Creepypasta when there's chaos out there in town?" I asked Eric, which got his attention.

"Well, you're the one who did something wrong."

"And what is that?"

"You drew a sketch of Slender Man. Only I can control him!"

"THEN LET'S GO OUT THERE AND DEFEAT THEM NOW!"

Keith was following us, but I had to stop him. "Keith, please, you can't come with us. It's very risky." Keith got a little upset, putting his hand on my shoulder. "But I can't risk you getting hurt. You're a good little buddy of mine, but I don't want to lose you." I saw tears dropping down onto his cheeks.

"But all of this was my fault, well, mostly his," I said, pointing to Eric.

"I'm right here!" Eric whined. "And besides, my drawings don't come to life, because I have control over them, but when someone else draws in it, it comes to life. That means that Slender Man will draw the characters to life!"

We all ran to the kitchen, out to the back door, out into the night. I looked back at Keith, which he just went through the front door. I ran to the front door, and looked outside through the glass door. I saw him, struggling to find his car keys in his car that was parked in front of my house. His car was dark blue, barely camouflaged in the dark. As he found his car keys in the glove compartment, he inserted them in, and drove away quickly, like there was no tomorrow, which might be true.

I ran out of the back, noticing Eric staring at something in the bushes in my back yard. I stood next to him, looking at what seemed to be glowing red eyes, peering through the bushes at us. We both were close to the gate that led into town, a path where the park was.

I decided to get closer to Eric, which seemed to be feared by the thing too. "What is that?!" I asked him in a whisper. He turned his head at me, but still kept his eye on the bushes. "It's Smile Dog. I can tell," Eric told me. As I looked back at the bushes, the eyes disappeared. There was nothing but dark bushes.

We both noticed and looked around, trying to see where Smile Dog is. As I turned to the bushes, with a quick flash, it appeared. We both fell to the ground, surprised in what teleported in front of us. Smile Dog. It was in its normal form, its husky form. He slowly walked up to us, struggling to get up, since he was coming closer. The more he came, the more that huge, fanged smile grew.

"Well, well, well. Look at what we have here. Our creator, Mr. Creepypasta, that finally let us out. And the new meat," It said, starting to look at me. Its face came close to mine, smelling bad breath, like roadkill.

"Well, Smiley, I didn't let you out. My little friend, Rick, did the job," Eric said, sounding less scared. He slowly got up, which got Smile Dog's attention.

"Creator, we're just doing our job. I've 'Spread The Word' to people of Marble Hornets. Now we know it's time for war," it said, getting his face away from me. "Um, yeah, totally. I'll just grab my weapon to kill this child," Eric said, edging close to a long shovel.

I mouthed out, "Eric, what are you doing?!", but he came close to me with the shovel. Smile Dog got its strong paw off me. I rapidly crawled up the gate, and Eric raised the shovel. As he lowered the shovel, I closed my eyes. I can't believe he was going to betray me. And yet, Keith decided to leave me here, to get my face smashed in to the grass.

I didn't feel anything for a moment, so I opened my eyes a little, hearing a loud bang. He didn't hit me, he hit Smile Dog across the face with the shovel. I got up, listening to it howl in pain. "Rick, come on!" Eric shouted to me, while pulling me into a different street.

We ran down, running away while Smile Dog was still recovering. As we got to the park, across the street, we stopped, because Smile Dog suddenly appeared in front of us. It teleported in the middle of the street, stopping us from moving.

"Tsk tsk tsk," It said, starting to form into something more horrifying than how it looks. It started to turn a little red and dark. Its eyes became a glowing blood red and that smile, it grew bigger, showing a big row of fangs, bigger than any dog's fangs. The side of its face was bruised up, bleeding from the shovel.

"Creator, you betrayed me. Now I'll just HAVE TO KILL Y-" Was all it said before it stopped talking. Smile Dog looked to the left, noticing big car lights coming his way. Smile looked on the ground, noticing he's on the street, then he let out a small howl. Eric and I closed our eyes, blocking our view as we saw Smile smudged on the street by that dark blue car. The person stepping out of the car looked very familiar. He looked at the roadkill, then placed his hand on the back of his head, feared about killing the poor animal.

"Oh god, I just killed a poor little dog. Oh my god," the person said, then turned to me. "Eric? Rick?"

I ran up to him, hugging him. "Keith! I thought you left us. I saw your car, you drove off," I told him, while squeezing him hard. Keith shook his head no. "I only needed to grab weapons for you guys." He looked on the ground, at Smile Dog, which he's starting to bleed from his chest, which was pretty gruesome to see.

"And accidentally killed an animal," Keith pointed out.

"That's not a normal animal. That's Smile Dog," Eric said, which made both of us look at him. Keith looked back down, looking at its dead bleeding body. The dog had its chest ran over, still hearing the soft crunching sounds and tiny drips of blood dropping to the pavement.

"Are you sure it's alive?" Keith asked, bending over it. He raised his fingers and was about to rub its husky white and black fur. "No! Don't!" Eric yelled out loud to Keith, before it was too late.

In a quick flash, it disappeared. The dog's bleeding body disappeared. All there was left on the road was a big dark pile of red fluid. But at the front of the car, it stood. The dog's form started to change. "My god Keith, why?!" I yelled at Keith, as he done nothing but stared at the forming Smile Dog.

First, the dog's ribcage, which was opened out at first, healed itself. Those cracking sounds, I thought. So sickening. The dog started to look angrier, and redder. Not like when you get angry, your face changes to red, because of your blood pressure, but like the fur. The fur was changing colors. Then, last of all, that horrible grin. It started to growl at us, walking toward us. We made a run for it, but when turning back, it seemed to be walking, but not chasing us.

"What is Smile Dog doing?" I asked, looking far at twenty yards away, where it was at. Eric seemed to not get it, because of that strange expression on his face.

"I don't know. Testing us? Ready to pounce? I never wrote him out to do...," Eric paused. "Whatever Smiley's doing. Now let's back away as far as possi-" Eric paused again as he stopped. In fact, we all stopped. We heard breathing noises from behind us. Really loud breathing, in fact, I felt hot breath blowing against my back neck. We turned around, and noticed a group of people.

The people seemed to have something worn on their face. One was wearing a bandana, another was wearing a white mask, and another was wearing a hoodie, but the face was dark, with red glowing eyes.

"Ticci Toby," I said.

"Masky," Eric said.

"Hoodie," Keith said.

They seemed to be staring at us, with no strange expression at all. They just stood there, like kids waiting in line. Then, looking behind them, another big group of people appeared. They all looked different, but something wasn't right. They looked oddly familiar. In the middle of the group, there was a big, tall man in a dark suit. Its tentacles grew out of its back, like a bird's wings.

"Slender Man!" Keith and I said, turning around to run.

"GUYS, WE NEED TO GET IN THE CAR NOW!" Eric yelled as we ran to the car. We got in, but Keith only ran away from the car, and to downtown. That meant we're left out inside the car. The Creepypasta characters then started to chase us down, almost coming to the car.

"Drive now!" I shouted at Eric as he put Keith's keys in the ignition and stepped on it. Driving in an incredible speed, we drove them away, none of them in sight.

"Eric, please tell me, how do we defeat all of them? They're too powerful!" I asked Eric, sitting next to him in the passenger seat.

"Well, I don't know! Ask the crazy person who unleashed them all."

"Eric, I'm sorry! I just wanted to know."

"Well, you don't just fight with somebody when they were busy drawing a sketch!"

"JUST TELL ME HOW! DO YOU KNOW HOW?!"

Eric paused to think for a moment. He looked more concerned when asking him. He nodded his head in more concern. "You can't defeat them. If you do, it'll kill me too."

I stopped, looking at him, Eric being focused on driving. "Eric. Is there something you're not telling me?" I asked him, starting to feel just as concerned as him.

He only said nothing, but just silence. Then, in a few moments later, he responded finally. "I'm considered a Creepypasta character." I said nothing, but thought.

"What are you saying?"

"I had a creator, his name was Victor Surge. He created my enemy, Slender Man. Then he created me to create him. But I never saw him again, since I was only just a couple of written words in a journal. Ever since, I made legends that turned out to be real. So basically, that's why I can't be hurt. I can only be hurt by damaging the sketchbook, but however, I can be written back on page. Name, sketch, story, etc. And it'll create me like how I'm written. Sending all the characters in the journal can kill them, by suicide. I have to damage the book to send them and me back in."

I only sat down in the seat, looking through the window. While the long drive to downtown, I decided to get out my cell phone and call my mom. Hearing three rings, her voice finally came on. "Sweetie? Is anything alright?" her voice sounded worried. She knows a lot of feeling when it comes to talking to someone.

"Hey mom. No, I'm fine."

"Oh, thank gosh. We're almost to the dinner. It's out of state. Your dad and I might not come back until Sunday. Maybe."

Out of state? But will she still hear about chaos that's happening here in Marble Hornets? Then, while chatting with mom, Eric stopped driving. He stepped on the brake pedal, and only stared through the windshield, at someone standing in front of the car. "Um, yeah. That's good. I got to go. Yes, Keith is with me. Alright, love you. Bye now," I said between replies from mom and hung up.

"Rick. Don't say a word. Let's just drive away," Eric said quietly as he pulled the gearshift level to reverse and drove away. "Eric, what are we doing? Who was that?" I asked him.

"No Through Road."

We got back on the road from the gravel roadway, and drove off to the actual part of downtown. While driving, Eric decided to turn on to the radio, which a heavy metal song played on. I recognized that song. It was "In The End" by Black Veil Brides. It was one of my favorites, but I didn't have time to focus on the song.

Then when the song was over, about to play "Monster" by Meg & Dia, Eric stopped the car, but slowly drove on. We both saw it, shocked at all those police officers, holding up their guns at something in front of them. It was all those Creepypasta characters, fighting with all those police officers. In the background, through the radio, we heard screams. They came from somewhere in the distance.

We both looked at the horror that stood in front of us, a few yards away. Police officers, being killed one by one, in gruesome ways. I saw Mr. Bear, a psychopath in a bear costume, slicing people's throats, showing the insides as blood ran down on their chests. We both saw Squidward and Suicide Mouse, giving lot of people fear of their suicidal look. I saw Sonic, chasing somebody, killing them by ripping his limbs off. "You're too slow," I heard him say, as he looked at us. We both looked up through the windshield, which got our attention, something about to land on the car.

The object didn't seem to be an object, because as it fell on the car, it rolled off the car, leaving a trail of blood that was left from the poor human. We both screamed, getting out of the car. So far, I only hear a few screams, and mostly those squishes and stabs and booms of the dead victims. As I heard nobody else, all that was left were us. They stared at us, with their angered expressions. Each one, known by all.

Slender Man.

Jeff the Killer.

Ticci Toby.

Smile Dog.

Masky.

Hoodie.

Sally.

Mr. Bear.

The Rake.

Squidward.

Suicide Mouse.

Eyeless Jack.

Zalgo.

One of the patients of the Russian Sleep Experiment.

Ben Drowned.

Characters of Candle Cove.

The Smiling Man.

Laughing Jack.

And more that I can't explain. As we stared at them, in a few moments, they run away. We catch up to them without them noticing, running to our neighborhood.

 **PART FIVE: A SIGN OF REVENGE**

Following them, we noticed that they're going to kill the people in my neighborhood. We hid behind a bush, watching through at the characters as they roam free. I turned to Eric, he had a disappointed look on his face. He shook his head and peered through the thorny bush more.

"Eric, um, what are we going to do?" I asked him, him sitting up and facing me.

"Probably find another way to get the sketch journal, or find another way to put them back," Eric replied, getting up. "Follow me. I think I know where they're going."

I took out my pocket flashlight and aimed at our trail to get to them. It was dark, possibly about 11:30 PM at night. While walking down to Eric's way, I decided to talk to him, just to chat. "So, Eric, do you have lots of fans of Creepypasta?" I asked him, a random question in thought. He faced forward, but still focused on my questions.

"Yeah. Lots of them," he said, as we start heading down through the forest. "It started around 2010. As soon as I started to exist, I had to write stories for people. Even people make up their own stories. Ever since, those five years, I couldn't stop. I was made to be that way. If a new one was being created online, and if it would get a bunch of fans' reads or fan art, etcetera, then it would be easily possible to come to life. That's why they have that journal, to have themselves free from control."

"But can't you just buy a different journal and get ideas from that without controlling them?"

"Yes. And no."

"What do you mean, yes and no?"

"Basically, that journal would only accept Creepypasta drawings and any other normal journals would make the sketches disappear."

I have no idea what to ask him, so I just kept walking, hearing the wind whispering through the dark, tall trees. We have been walking for what seemed to be a small light near forward us. It seemed to be shown through the trees. Us getting closer, we heard voices. These voices sounded shrill and young, like a child's. Getting more closer, we saw a campfire, but no children. The heat from the fire was already getting me a little sweaty, drops of them soaking into my red t-shirt.

In the distance, we saw nothing but darkness, but the voices were still heard. Those voices, I thought, they sound as if they're getting closer. And Eric found that out the hard way, because when I turned to him, he seemed to be pointing at something in the woods. I looked at whatever he was pointing to, but saw nothing. I aimed my flashlight at where he was looking at, and jumped back as I saw kids.

These kids seemed to be younger than us, about in the elementary grade age. There were lots, circling us. They seemed to look a little dirty, almost scared looks on their faces. I looked at Eric, him looking at me as if he wanted me to do something. "Rick, let's leave the woods now! These kids aren't looking for trouble, but they seemed to be ruled by trouble. I just stood there and done nothing. Eric shoved some of the kids away, and looked back at me. "Rick! Come on! Run!" he yelled as he pointed at the kids.

I turned to look at the kids, and they seem to be changing. They started to look a little innocent and lost, but now they look awful. They looked as if they were badly mutilated. The kids around us took their hand and each took something out of their pocket, a pair of bloody scissors. They held it out in front of them, seeming as if they're ready to attack. "Scissors are dangerous, so hold them safely," the kids say at the same time, running at me after. "Rick!" I heard Eric yell at me.

I start to run, shoving some kids away. As I run to Eric, I felt a sharp pain in my back. It was a searing pain that suddenly shot through me. Then that memory came back, that moment at school, but it felt worse. I had no idea what it was, but I kept running. My back was burning with excruciating pain. I grabbed at the pain as if that could stop it. It hurt so much, but I had to bear with it. I ran away from the kids, but they seemed to not be running. However, a tall figure was standing with them.

I stopped running and aimed the phone flashlight at the figure, who wasn't that far away from me. The figure was a man, but he was wearing a bear costume. He had something in his hands, and was holding it up. It was some sort of camcorder.

I continued running, and finally got out of the woods. It gotten a little dark out, but Eric was nowhere to be seen. I kept looking around to find him, but no luck. I yelled his name to see if I can hear his voice yell back. "Eric! Eric! Where are you?" I yelled, but no sign of him.

Great, I was alone. Nobody in sight, which might possibly mean I'm the only person in town. This may sound quite stupid, but I went to go hide in my house, which wasn't far from the woods. The house was dark inside, so I had to turn on the lights. As I turned them on, it was complete silent. Going to the bathroom, I turned the lights on. Looking at my back, there was a pair of long scissors stuck to my back. Red dark blood was stained to my shirt, making a darker shade of red. Stuck to the scissors, there was a piece of paper stuck to the blade. Slowly taking the scissors out of my back, the stinging pain came back. I whimpered a little, then taking the piece of paper off.

There was words written on it. I looked at the note, which read: GO CHECK YOUR EMAIL. WE HAVE HIM, SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL GIVE UP NOW! That explained why I couldn't hear or see him. I went to the family laptop, going on my email account. Looking at my notifications, I see some new ones. I went to the latest one, and there it was, an email from Smile Dog. Did he want me to see it? I thought. I clicked on the email, and there was only a picture and a small message.

The picture was Eric, he was being forcibly by who seemed to be Masky, Hoodie, and Toby in the background of the photo. The character who stood in front of the photo was Slender Man, holding up something in his hands. Eric's sketch book. It was there, and he had it with him. Eric in the photo looked beat up, cut up and bloody, like in the Creepypasta stories. I know that Eric can't be hurt, because he's a Creepypasta character as well, but I know he's in trouble.

"Eric!" I yelled to myself, running to the front door, and heading out of the house. And into the night to get Eric and the sketch journal.

 **PART SIX: MR. CREEPYPASTA'S SACRIFICE**

The cold air of the night hit my body as I stepped outside the house. I turned on my phone flashlight and aimed around anxiously in the darkness. It was a little dark out, but a hint of brightness was shown. It's almost morning, I thought, possibly before the crack of dawn. Around me, I saw the houses, but something was odd. The lights were on in their house, only a little though.

In each one, people were in there, a family. In each of their worried and frightened looks, some of them had weapons of all sorts. Guns, knives, bats, construction tools, etc. It was all there in their shaking hands.

But if they had lights on, wouldn't they have killed them already? It might not be enough time for Eric, because he's still out there, hoping and waiting for me to save him. When starting to run to the forest, I heard a voice calling out. I jumped and looked around me, shining my phone around at anything that I could possibly find. Seeing nothing, I turn around to run, but that same voice yelled out again. "Hey!"

I turned around again, shining at some houses. One of them had a girl, about my age, calling out. I aimed my flashlight at the girl, whose house was two houses farther from mine. "What are you doing out here? Can't you see that there's demons of some sorts killing everyone?" the girl said, walking up closer to me.

I just stood there, done nothing but wait for her to talk to me. Coming up closer, I finally got to see her tanned face. It was one of the popular girls at school, Teresa Wells. She does have a crush on me, well, that's what I heard. She had jet black long hair that hung over her shoulders, leaf green eyes, perfect make up that would attract you the first chance you look. She usually wears a white t-shirt and ripped jeans, which makes her pretty rebel. She's mostly known at school for being one of the most known cheerleaders at school. Her eyes made me feel less scared about my worries, but I must resist going. "Teresa, my friend is out there. I can't risk him getting killed and lost forever. He's like, the only friend I ever had, but that's different," I told her, about to run to the forest, but she laid her hand on my shoulder.

"Rick, you know, there was something I wanted to tell you too. Can I tell you first, then go save your friend?" Teresa asked me as she turned me around. I start to blush a little, but still needed to be in a hurry. "What is it?" I said, sounding less worried and more safe.

She turned her eyes up at mine, then slowly edged her lips close to mine. I slowly closed my eyes, feeling the urge to feel calm, and kissed her. Her lips felt spongy and soft, tasting the flavor of strawberry lipstick she had on. I had no worry at all, just thinking . . . safe . . . and pleasant thoughts. "Will you be my boyfriend?" She asked me, having a bit of tears in her eyes. "I don't want to miss you, please, nor your friend."

I had nothing to say, before leaving, I nodded my head. "I'll give you my phone number tomorrow and we can meet at school on Monday, how does that sound?" I asked Teresa, with tears dripping down her face and that pretty smile marked on her face. She nodded rapidly. "Go save Eric, my hero." I went to run, but thought of what she said. I stopped and turned to her. "How did you know my friend is named Eric?" I asked her, confused. She ran her hand over the back of her head, looking down. "'Well, I kind of do spy on you from my house sometimes. I just think you're hot," she said, blushing more, as if she said something she shouldn't have said. I felt a little creeped out, just hearing her explanation. "Right." I waved to her, before running to the next stop to the forest. And also, who would kiss a guy that they had just met? It's just like me being impatient with Eric before meeting him. Yeah, I'm like that, a lot, but I couldn't help it. I have issues when stressed.

I ran as fast as I can, feeling brave and heroic. My shoes run on the wet and hard pavement, stepping on small puddles on every step. The moon shown on my face, showing me the light to the entire town of Marble Hornets. I ran past a couple of houses, where people stepped out of their front doors, staring at me. As of their face expression, they must be wondering "what does that kid think he's doing?". I would might as well answer in my mind. I'm here to stop this chaos for once and for all.

I stop running, inhaling air from running out of it. My heart was beating fast, burning my legs for all that running. Finishing, I look up, noticing a bunch of big trees near me, from at least a few yards away. I smile, running to the forest. As I get to the gravel way, my foot steps on something hard, causing me to trip and fall. My head knocked hard on the pavement, giving me a big bump on my head. Looking at my foot, I saw something long and skinny laying down. I picked it up, holding a long machete. Who would have a machete out in the woods? I thought.

Kind of thinking about it, I think Eric would have it to use for himself to protect. I carry the weapon by the hard, plastic handle, and run into the dark forest. Stepping on hard gravel and dead leaves, I kept looking around for any sign of trouble. While running, two things had came to my mind: Keith and Marble Hornets. Where is Keith? I wondered. And will the town of Marble Hornets go downhill if I fail? That's what I don't know, but I wanted to stop thinking about it.

Suddenly, stopping to a light, I start to see people, or as if they are. Turning to see them, they were holding somebody still. Hiding behind a tree, I saw a bunch of all sorts of Creepypasta characters. Most of them circled around something, something bright. Getting a little closer, almost enough to get noticed, I saw a big fire around something in the middle of it. It seemed to be a stick-like pole, but something was tied to the top. Looking up at it, my mouth hung low as I saw Eric, struggling to escaped from being tied up to the pole.

He had cuts and bruises on him, but from the looks of it, he did not look happy. And on his forehead, there was some sort of symbol that familiarized me. It was carved on, blood dripping from the scar, making a symbol of Slenderman. "Let me go! I created you! I never wanted you to act like this!" I heard Eric yelled at someone far from view in the distance. Looking at whatever he was looking at, it was a tall figure, walking slowly up to him. In his white, skinny hands, held the journal.

"Nobody wanted us. They feared us," Slenderman said, his voice coming out dark and raspy. He held out the journal, slowly close to the fire. As he done that, Eric had screamed in pain, as if the journal was affecting him, like some sort of life source. "We never wanted to be created this way," Slenderman continued, moving the book away from the fire.

Eric struggled to revive from the pain that was going into him. "I never wanted you to be made fun of. Victor created me to create all of you. TO BE KNOWN FOR AS ENTERTAINMENT!" Eric yelled, trying to explain, but Slenderman keeps putting the journal close to the fire around him.

"Victor was a liar, Eric. He created you, because he wanted us to become insane, even you," Slenderman replied. That made Eric stop talking, and thought for a moment. "Even if Victor left us, he would still remember us, as a family of all creations, THAT TREATS THEIR MASTER LIKE TRASH!" Eric said, screaming in more pain as Slenderman put the book closer to the fire.

I got out from behind the tree and took out the machete, ready to fight. "Let. Eric. Go," I said, in my bravest, and yet awkward tone yet. All of them, even Eric, turned to me. Looking at Eric's facial expressions, he seemed more happy than more shocked. In a few more seconds, I heard a laugh come from Jeff the Killer, his smile making his laugh look worse. Then the laughing spread on like wildfire, except for Slenderman. "Rick, Rick, Rick. What a big surprise. I heard you haven't heard of us. But now you have, and now we're here. Let's talk this through," Slenderman said, as he threw the book into the fire circle that surrounded Eric, getting a bit of the journal burnt.

Eric screamed, howled as the book went through the fire, landing on grassland underneath him. As Slenderman came close to me, he had something long come out of his back. In fact, there was lots. Tentacles. I dropped the machete, having no idea or plot of what should happen. As he got closer to me, he grabbed me with his tentacles, and squeezed me tightly. My body ached a lot, feeling more pain than from school with Big Jack, which I hope would be dead by now. I can feel my blood flowing to the two halves of my body. Then I heard Eric yell something from behind Slenderman. He stopped strangling me, and turned around at Eric, at by surprise, has escaped from the pole.

"What?! How did you-" Slenderman stuttered, confused and angry. Eric seemed to look different, as in how he looks. Some of his burnt marks revealed different colors. Some shown are blue, black, and white. Looking at him, it seemed that the blue must be his Mr. Creepypasta appeal, the black being his CreepsMcPasta, and the white being his Creepypasta Jr. appeal. "Like I said, I am your master," Eric said, not making any sense, but still looks angry from the pain he's been through. As he finished his explanation, he held up something in this right hand, the journal, still safe and sound.

Slenderman growled, throwing me out of the way. "GET THAT BOOK!" he shouted as all of the Creepypasta characters ran close to him. Eric didn't seem afraid, but I can tell he's going to do it. He eyed at me, then eyed at the machete. I looked at the weapon, then shook my head no as a response. He nodded yes, which made me want to end all of this. I grabbed the machete by the handle and threw it in the crowd, which Eric had caught it in his hands. He grabbed the book, opening to the blank pages, and raised the machete up. "Who's your creator now?" Eric said. He lowered the machete down, stabbing into the journal.

Eric then let out a loud, howling scream. It was upsetting to see him suffer, but it was the only way to stop all of this. Looking at all of the characters, they seemed to be horrified, staring at the journal, then staring at them. Their bodies were morphing into ink, as if it was the ink from the pencil and charcoal that came from the sketches. "No! What have you done?!" Slenderman screamed, looking down at me, then down at his body. His body was disappearing slowly, morphing into ink. He screamed, as he tried to grab my neck with his huge hands, but he misses as his whole arms disappear. All of the Creepypasta characters then disappear, then Eric looked at me, then gave me a wink and a salute. I got a feeling it would end good, so I gave him a salute back. Then his body started to morph into ink, sucking him back into the journal, then the book shuts itself closed.

Hearing only nothing but silence, I went up to the journal, opening it up. I was shocked and surprised that all of the sketches have gone back into their rightful place. I looked at the last page, where I drew that one sketch of Slenderman, was a blank page. I set the book down, placing my hand on the journal's page. As I did, something appeared on the page. I removed my hand off the page, looking at the words that formed out something, as if it was being typed by a typewriter.

The words read:

"Thank you for releasing me Rick. I knew you can do it! You can write me back on page if you want, but don't write me as evil or wicked. Just like how my creator wrote me for the first time. Thank you Rick, thank you. - Mr. Creepypasta, your only trusted friend."

Just staring at that note made me start to shed a tear. As I hugged the book tight against my chest, I looked up, lots of people stared at me. They were the people from the town. They must've saw what happened, because they looked happy and sad, according to their facial expressions. They started clapping, then cheering. I saw some other people that I knew. I saw Teresa, Ryan, and Big Jack. I was horrified to see him, but this time, he ran up to me, and hugged me tightly against his big chest. "Hey Little Rick, sorry on being such a bully to you. I never knew you were such brave with such a great friend like that. My apologies. Wanna be friends together? You, me and others?" He said, grinning at me. He sounded serious, which made me smile. I nodded my head, then raised the book in the air, cheering on for other to cheer for me. I finally done something that made me feel less lonely. I never had much attention in town. Barely anybody liked me, but now, by how they felt, they wanted me as their new hero.

 **EPILOGUE: THE TWIST ENDING**

November 16th, 2015; 14:25; Monday (THREE DAYS LATER)

I got to my locker, getting out my stuff for whatever I needed. Ever since I got back at school, a lot of people talked a lot about me. Most wanted to know the story of what happened, which they felt surprised at some exciting parts I told them. I got a lot of respect from Big Jack too, which he's been treating me like a guardian angel. He, Teresa, Ryan, and I sat at the lunch table, chatting along. I never felt this happy ever, I mean ever, in my life.

Putting the journal in my backpack, I waved goodbye to my friends, and then suddenly, Big Jack grabbed my shoulder, then turned me around. "So, you wanna sit next to me on the bus? I'll let you on this time. Promise," he told me. I thought he was about to joke about being friends and beat me up again, but he was not kidding. "Sure. And why not let everyone call you Jack? Just Jack," I replied, grinning up at him, then getting on our bus for a ride home.

As I got off the bus, he yelled at me goodbye, yelling from his window. As I waved, the bus drove off, somewhere wherever Jack needed to be dropped off. I walked up the stairs, opening the two doors, and stepped inside. I shut the doors, setting my stuff down, and laid down on the couch. I saw Keith, he was on the family laptop. I got excited, running up to him and hugged him. He noticed, hugging me back. "Rick! I saw what you done! Proud of you, Big Rick," Keith told me, patting me on the shoulder. Yes, I allowed him to call me "Big Rick".

When I went to sit down to watch some stuff on the news, I stopped to look at his computer screen. He had a website up. Looking at the search bar, it read: .org. I went closer, seeing that he's submitting a story online. As a few minutes has passed, I saw the amount of readers or viewers go up like a storm. He was getting over 10K views from his story. He jumped up in the air, hugging me, then jumped around in excitement more.

"So, Keith, what story did you write about?" I asked him as he went to the kitchen to dig into some Oreos. He had a small bowl of them, stopping to reply from eating.

"It's my version of what happened in town, except that were Eric is evil and he allowed everybody to get killed," Keith said, sitting down on the couch, turning on the news on the television. As I saw the views and readers of the story that got submitted, it suddenly hit me.

Eric did tell me that if some sort of story or fan art writes him back as evil, he would become evil, alive. That made me gasp in shock, Keith noticing. "Hey, anything alright?" He asked me.

I turned to him. "Keith. DON'T YOU REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE?! YOU'VE WRITTEN HIM BACK AS AN EVIL CREEPYPASTA CHARACTER! NOW HE'S GOING TO KILL US-" Was all I could say when Keith looked behind me, with a scared expression on his face. He pointed at the laptop, which a hand pops out of the screen, reminding me of that one movie I saw where it had that one cursed tape.

Something crawled out of the screen, revealing a big figure, seeming to glitch into different forms. In a quick flash, it flashed into forms of what seemed to be four forms. One showed Eric's normal form. Another showed his form as Mr. Creepypasta. Another of CreepsMcPasta. And another of Creepypasta Jr. We stood back, no help around us at all. Eric walked up closer to us, looked down at both of us.

"Who's your creator now?" He said, pulling my arm instead of Keith's. Keith just stood there, done nothing but watched. I screamed for help, but I can tell it was too late. I was being dragged into the computer screen, seeing nothing but blank space. I couldn't describe it, but it felt hot, and the space had a color of shades of dark blood red. With my feet being the last thing being pulled in, I saw where the screen was, in front of me. It showed Keith, grabbing a hammer.

"No no no no no, Keith DON'T!" I yelled before Keith raised the hammer, and slamming the screen. All I remember now, is blacking out, with nothing around me at all. I was gone. And nowhere to escape.

 _ **THE END**_

 _ **CREEPYPASTA: THE SECOND CHAPTER**_ _will come out soon in Spring 2016!_


End file.
